


Crook and Flail

by kremisiusaclassi



Series: And Miles To Go [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Universe Alteration, brother and sister sheps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kremisiusaclassi/pseuds/kremisiusaclassi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whose woods are these I think I know.<br/>His house is in the village though;<br/>He will not see me stopping here<br/>To watch his woods fill up with snow.<br/>		-- “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Brother/Sister AUs are what makes the world go round.

They both had nightmares, sometimes. She dreamt about thresher maws and the tang of acid-burned skin. He dreamed he was once more stuck in the confined spaces of BAaT, quietly angry at everything it consisted of. They were old wounds, uneasily scarred over and tough. Sometimes she didn’t sleep because it felt too much like sand in her lungs. Sometimes he hoarded all the food he got his hands on in case he never saw food again. Little things, tiny things, things that they mentioned to each other in low tones at night, but to no one else. They had learned the importance of secrecy from a young age, on Earth, in those gang-ridden slums; they had grown in battle, that battle of simply being allowed to survive and thrive, and had etched in their bones and very fiber of their beings how to survive.

Their mother had taught them the important things before she had died. She taught them to stand tall and to walk with grace and dignity, to never bow but give acknowledgment with a smile, to talk quietly so others would be forced to use their entire attentions in order to hear them and to leave them hanging on every word, and if those pretty words failed, to shoot them where it hurt the most. Never ask twice. Never beg. Ask politely the first time, and demand the second time. Never break eye contact, and when the other party looks away, demand the attention of their eyes. Be compassionate, but not naive. Kind, but not passive. Forgiving, yet unrelenting in the search for justice - but never without mercy. They understood what it meant to live on nothing, to steal, to hurt people for what they needed; now they do none of those things save hurting people, and even that is saved for the guilty.

Jane had wanted to be an artist before becoming a soldier. She still wanted to be one, some days, and on those days she would draw or paint for hours. When she had been a lower rank, her officers had often chastised her for painting on the walls of the ship - though it had never stopped her from doing so, and no matter how often paint was taken from her, it was back in her foot locker by the end of the day cycle. John had put an end to the painting after the mural of the thresher maw on the floor, curled around what looked to be a destroyed Mako, and surrounded with dead bodies. He had been the one to take turpentine to the floor and clean it up before someone else would see it.

John believed in the necessary sacrifice of taking his sister’s place. It had only been the two of them, him only a couple years older but still a child, still having to find out ways to feed himself and his sister. It had been his own fault that they’d been exposed to eezo - something he continued to blame himself for despite knowing he did not have control over every aspect of the universe - and later, when the Alliance found them both and wanted to take them away (“We’re here to help, son,” a gruff, wide man had told them, his face pinched but not mean. John had laughed at him, almost without control, at the thought of help. It tasted too much like charity, and too much like prison. But John had convinced them Jane didn’t have any biotics, had told her to pretend not to have them if this had ever happened, and so they took him away and left her in an orphanage. Jane had told him, through whatever communication could be smuggled in Jump Zero, that it wasn’t so bad. She was smart enough to know how to get potential parents to want nothing to do with her - and she had waited, patiently, for John to come home).

Akuze had left marks both physical and mental on her, learning how to live with a dead squad and odd praise for having even survived. John had been in the Blitz and saved them all, they said.

When people mentioned Akuze to Jane, in hopes of inciting some glorious retelling akin to Custer’s Last Stand, she would shrug and smile in a way that didn’t reach her eyes and tell them, “Thresher maws are pretty cute when you ignore all the death and acid.”

When people mentioned the Blitz to John, he would tell them, almost a little too seriously, “It was due to everyone else that I was able to succeed.”

Where John was too serious, Jane was too aloof. It was how soldiers coped with sleepless night cycles, by pretending nothing was even wrong to begin with.

Jane dreams of thresher maws and John dreams of starving in confinement.


	2. Prime Real Estate

Her armor was painted the colors of a watermelon. A pink base with green highlights. When she had been given the option to have custom armor, a perk of being a Commander and therefore above some regulations, she had chosen vibrancy over the typical N7 black. John had told her it was a bad idea, that she had painted herself a target and that people would shoot at her more on the field. She had shrugged and told him that so long as they weren’t trying to kill her squad, it didn’t matter. She had survived too much to be killed by a bullet. A thresher maw was bigger and more deadly than one bullet, and bullets couldn’t eat through her shield. John, in response, had made his armor the same as hers; if she would be shot at twice as often, so would he.

Their closeness and competency in battle had given them some perks - where she went, John went. They were even of the same rank, and on the Normandy had been given the same position. Jane had never really minded the fact that people used her and her brother interchangeably; they were the Shepards, and had never disagreed on a decision, no matter how hard. She supposed the Alliance had seen first hand with Akuze that Jane was better off with John at her side, anyway.

“I can’t believe you brought that armor with you, Shepard,” Anderson told her, sounding like he was on the cusp of needing to lie down. “Especially when you knew there was a Spectre coming with us.”

Jane gave a smile and a shrug. She spoke quietly, as she always did, voice hardly above a whisper. “The watermelon armor is a part of me, Anderson. You can’t truly understand who I am without first comprehending the purpose of the watermelon armor.”

“Then I suppose I don’t understand who you are,” he rolled his eyes at her. “Why don’t you go check out the ship? The Alliance didn’t spend billions of credits to have no one admire their finest work.”

“A very expensive joyride,” Jane said cheerfully. “I can’t wait to crash it.”

“Try not to.”

“Good thing I’m not driving then, dad.” She tossed him an easy, informal salute and strolled off down the CIC. She made finger guns at Navigator Pressly as she passed him, the Navigator giving her a confused look in return, a look that made her laugh shortly. She had conversed with him once so far, and all the man had done was complain almost bitterly about aliens and aliens on the ship. She had no use for xenophobia, a completely useless personality trait in her opinion, and distantly hoped that the man would get over it. She wasn’t going to hold her breath, though.

When she reached the cockpit she leaned against the wall, taking a moment to look around. There was a dark haired man to the left of the pilot, who instantly reminded her of 20th-century rock sensation Elvis Presley; it was a comparison she only knew from spending far too much time with the old woman who ran the orphanage she had spent time in, and who spent hours listening to “Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog” on repeat.

The pilot himself was muttering absentmindedly under his breath as he steered the ship towards the Mass Relay in the distance.

“So, who let Elvis on the ship?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow at the man, mouth turned up in a smile. “I take it you’re the Staff Lieutenant? I distantly recall hearing that you were a big shot singer once upon a time, but also that you died in a bathroom. And yet here you are.”

“E-excuse me? Ma’am?” The man sounded less outraged and more confused. Confusion seemed to be her theme of the day. The pilot, apparently startled out of his mutterings, started cracking up.

“Nevermind. It was a joke. I suppose not everyone knows about rock ‘n’ roll sensation Elvis Presley. He has, after all, been dead a century or two.”

The Staff Lt. stared at her for a moment more, seeming to be trying to figure her out, before he spoke again. “I’m sorry, but who are you? Your armor is… pink. That can’t be regulation.”

“Watermelon. It’s watermelon, you blaspheming singer lookalike.” She threw her hands up in the air. “As for me, I am Commander Jane Shepard, co-XO, not to be confused with my brother, John. Who you’ve probably already met, given how gung-ho he is about introducing himself. He usually wears watermelon colored armor, too, but thought the better of it when he heard there was a Spectre on board. No fun.”

The pilot cut in then. “Oh, he was very serious. Sterling example of Alliance discipline. Nice to see we have at least one officer on board that can have fun.” He spoke without taking his eyes off the ship’s controls, and in the middle of his sentence, piloted the ship through the Relay. “I am your pilot for this shakedown cruise, Joker. You can call me Joker, or if you’re my friend, you can call me Joker. Lieutenant Fun Times over there already knew your brother, though. What a heartfelt reunion. I had a tear in my eye.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Skyllian Blitz?”

“Uh… Jump Zero, actually.” He sent a disapproving look at Joker before returning his attention to her. “I’m Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, which I’m assuming you knew from my file.”

“I don’t read files, I prefer to talk to people face to face. Feels a little too much like prying, anyway. I did, however, know who you were beforehand. My brother talked about you, said he knew someone from there that looked like Elvis.”

Two sets of heavy footsteps accompanied a deeply patient voice. “Lies and slander. I said no such thing.”

“I distinctly remember you humming ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’”

Her brother gave her an amused glance, though he kept his face trained into stoicism. Anyone but her would have missed the slight crinkle at the corner of his green eyes, the faintest hint of crow’s feet tugging at dark skin. Jane turned and took note of the more-or-less irritated stare of her brother’s companion, the Spectre she had seen briefly before and recalled his name - Nihlus. His mandibles were twitching in what she decided was clear annoyance.

“Your Captain wants to know how the ship is handling,” he said curtly, his modulated voice tight - or, at least, whatever passed for a “tight” voice after passing through her translator.

Joker rattled off a bunch of things she didn’t really understand, but Nihlus nodded. “Your Captain will be pleased.” He then turned and walked back down the CIC, Jane watching him go as he did. She liked the way Turians walked; it was very much like a sashay, all in the hips. It made her want to paint the motion, if it was possible to capture.

“A ray of sunshine,” Jane sighed. “What a dreamboat.”

“I hate him,” Joker muttered.

“He paid you a compliment, so you hate him?” Kaidan asked, turning his attention from the screens in front of him.

“You are knockin’ my future husband, Flight Lieutenant,” Jane sniffed in mock offense.

“Mazel Tov,” John said drily.

“Just - call me paranoid, but they don’t send Spectres on shakedown runs,” Joker replied, beginning to sound agitated.

“You’re paranoid,” Kaidan said simply with a quick shrug.

“The Council did fund this ship. They have a right to protect their investment,” John offered, smiling a small, fond smile at Kaidan while he talked. Jane wanted to ask him about the fond look, but would save it for later. He had told her a lot about BAaT, but not everything - since she hadn’t told him all about Akuze, either, she didn’t judge. She didn’t miss Kaidan’s grateful nod in response to John’s comment, though.

“Something about this does seem a little off,” Jane said softly, serious. “Feels a little more important than a shakedown run.”

Before she could speculate further, Anderson’s voice crackled through the secure channel of the ship. “Please ask the Commanders to come to the Comms room.”

“No problem, Captain. Just a warning, I think Nihlus was headed your way.”

“He’s already here, Lieutenant.” Anderson’s voice cut out.

“Does he sound angry? He sounds angry,” Kaidan said.

“The Captain always sounds that way when he’s talking to me,” Joker responded, sounding almost like he was going to start complaining.

“I wonder why,” Kaidan drawled, shaking his head.

“Sounds like something’s wrong,” John said quietly, brow furrowed, his attention on his sister.

“Something’s always wrong,” she snorted, rolling her shoulders. “Let’s go see what mess we need to clean up.”

They turned in sync with one another, matching steps to the Comms room - John stopped once he saw the medbay Doctor (Chakwas, she reminded herself) arguing with the Private who had asked her what it was like to punch a Thresher Maw: Jenkins. He listened to Jenkins’ near hero-worship of his action in the Blitz, his back straight, straight, straight (and instantly she was reminded of their mother, chiding them, No one takes you seriously if you slouch.) - he was uncomfortable, though, with the praise. He always had been, to some extent, like the praise was a little too much to handle.

John quieted him with a gesture, told him to focus on getting the mission done right and not to take risks, and then pulled away from the conversation as he did with almost every conversation he ever had, a quiet, “I should go.” It was another trait from their mother, another lesson. Leave before the other person does, emphasize the “should” in a way that said, “Duty is making me go, but I don’t want to go.” Their mother had said saying it like this was a promise to come back.

When they trailed into the Comms room, only Nihlus was there - leaving Jane to briefly wonder where Anderson had run off to in the five seconds it had taken them to walk down the CIC - but pushed it out of her mind.

“Hello, Nihlus,” she greeted, a small smile curling at the corner of her lips.

“Commanders,” Nihlus responded, turning to face them. He looked down on them, face unreadable - but that was due to her own inability to read the facial expressions of Turians. She was sure he was expressing something truly wonderful, like disdain. She loved it when people had disdain. It was such a petty emotion, the feeling that one’s breath was absolutely wasted speaking to someone. She thought it was so beautifully self-important to think so little of others that they didn’t deserve the time it took to speak.

“Where’s Anderson?” John asked, corners of his mouth tugging downwards in the threat of a frown.

“Your Captain will be along shortly. I was hoping you might get here first, so we could talk,” Nihlus replied. “I wanted to know a little bit on this world we’re going to, this Eden Prime. I’ve heard it’s quite… beautiful. A victory for your people, they say.”

Jane shrugged. “It’s definitely a place. Where people are living. So, if you count that as a victory, sure.”

John sighed and elbowed her. “Eden Prime is supposedly a paradise.”

“An Earth away from Earth, if you will,” she added.

“So, it’s become something of a symbol for your people, hasn’t it? Proof that humanity cannot only establish colonies across the galaxy, but also protect them. But how safe is it, really?” Nihlus had been pacing while he spoke, only stopping once he posed his question, once again fixing them with his hard stare.

John raised an eyebrow. “Do you know something that we should know?”

“Oh, he probably knows lots of things we should know. Or, I should know, at least,” Jane said, smile curling ever more upwards as she crossed her arms and brought one hand up under her chin, completing a rather smug, ponderous body expression. “What’s your favorite color, Spectre? Also, know of any fun government conspiracies?”

“Jane,” her brother said sharply. “She likes to mess with people. She thinks it’s fun.”

“It is fun.” Jane sent her eyes heavenward. “We may all die today. Or we’ll die tomorrow. If that’s the case, I refuse to spend my last hours composing a funeral dirge.”

Nihlus was watching her in what may have been either judgement or distaste. Either way, she liked it - getting people’s feathers ruffled was her favorite thing. “To digress, humanity is still a newcomer to the galaxy. And the galaxy can be a very dangerous place. Is the Alliance truly ready for this?”

The Comms room door hissed open and, when Jane turned, saw that Anderson had entered the room. “I think it’s about time for the Commanders to know what’s really going on.”

John straightened his back once more and, in reflex, so did Jane. She wanted to make a quip about Anderson remembering her birthday and how he does care, but this felt a little more important, a little more requiring seriousness and less ruffled feathers. She thought, distantly, that it may have something to do with her not caring what the Spectre thought of her, but cared very, very much about Anderson’s opinion. Though she called him “dad” in a joking manner, it had never really felt like a joke to her.

“This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run,” Nihlus announced, and Jane got the impression he was expecting them to be surprised. Instead, she merely took note to tell Joker that he wasn’t paranoid - after all, paranoia is only paranoia if something isn’t being conspired or hidden.

John nodded and said, “We had figured that part out already.”

“We’re making a covert pickup on Eden Prime,” Anderson said. “That’s why we needed the stealth systems operational.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? That seems to be fairly innocuous information,” Jane asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Anderson shook his head. “This comes straight from the top, Jane. Information on a need-to-know basis. A research team on Eden Prime unearthed some sort of… beacon, while they were digging. It was Prothean.”

“Well, what does it do? Prothean tech is pretty useful, I mean, last time we found any we basically leapt through 200 years of space age innovation. Unless this is a boring beacon with information on how to make Salarian Surprise.” Jane felt her brother elbow her again and she shot him a quick irritated look.

“This is big, Commanders. This could be like what we unearthed on Mars,” Anderson continued, ignoring her final comment. “Eden Prime doesn’t have the facilities to handle something like this. We need to bring the beacon back to the Citadel for further study.”

“Obviously this discovery goes beyond mere human interest, Commanders. This discovery could affect every species in Council space.” Nihlus concluded. He sent a look sideways at Anderson and then stepped forward. “The beacon is not the only reason I’m here, Commanders.”

Jane noticed that Anderson looked very proud when he spoke again. “Nihlus wants to see you two in action. He’s here to evaluate you both.”

Jane raised her eyebrows and looked at John, who looked similarly surprised.

“Guess that’s why I keep bumping into him,” she said slowly.

“Evaluating us for… the Spectres?” Her brother asked, speaking just as slowly as she had.

“The Alliance has been pushing for this a long time. Humanity wants a bigger role in shaping interstellar policy. We want more say with the Citadel council. The Spectres represent the Council’s power and authority, and will show how far we’ve come,” Anderson answered.

Nihlus faced her brother. “You held off an enemy assault during the Blitz singlehanded. You showed not only courage, but incredible skill.”

He then turned to face her. She had to work very hard to suppress the urge to waggle her eyebrows at him. “Not many could have survived what you went through on Akuze. You showed a remarkable will to live - a particularly useful talent.”

He stepped back, once more falling in line with Anderson. “That’s why I’ve put both your names forward as candidates for the Spectres. Usually I would have only put forth one, but your Captain informed me that you two are… a package deal.”

“He brings the muscle and I bring the smarts. And the looks. And everything else,” she boasted. John coughed, but it sounded a little too much like a laugh.

“I hope you don’t plan on snarking your enemies to death, Commander,” Nihlus said, voice flat even through the translator modulation.

“Well, how do you think I killed those thresher maws? They have an incurable allergy to fun and jokes.”

“My sister means to say that this is a great honor - thank you very much for considering us as candidates.” John interjected, cutting her off before she could continue.

“That is what I said.” Jane agreed.

“I’m assuming this is good for the Alliance. Right, Anderson?” John queried.

“Earth needs this, John. We’re counting on you - on both of you.” The Captain nodded, and gestured once more to Nihlus, who picked up the conversation. Jane noticed it seemed a little too much like they had both practiced this in front of a mirror.

“Eden Prime will be the first of many missions together. I need to see your skills in action for myself,” Nihlus explained.

“You two will be in charge of the ground team. Your priority is to secure the beacon and get it onto the ship ASAP. Nihlus will be accompanying you to observe the mission.” Anderson stepped forward and clapped them both on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Don’t worry, Captain, unless it turns out that all hell is breaking loose on Eden Prime, I doubt it’s going to be very dangerous or exciting. Nihlus can observe me biotically levitating myself through the colony. Super useful Spectre skill.”

“Yes, as we all know, Spectres need to be able to make themselves look like they’re swimming through the air,” John muttered. Speaking up, at least as much as he ever did, which wasn’t very loud - John always quiet in his seriousness and Jane always quiet in her joking - he told them, “We’re ready to go whenever you give the word.”

“We should be receiving word from Eden - ” Anderson was suddenly cut off by Joker.

“Captain, we’re receiving a transmission from Eden Prime. You’re going to want to see this.”

The four of them watched the transmission in silence, the explosions, the carnage and unsteady filming with a jerky helmet cam. When Anderson had it paused at the frame of the ship, Jane studied it intensely. It wasn’t a ship she had ever seen before - and it did, in fact, look a bit like a giant hand.

“Somebody is playing a people-sized claw machine game,” she muttered, her canted eyes narrowed. “That looks like a huge hand, doesn’t it?”

“Geth?” John asked quietly, penseive as he got closer to the screen, his brow furrowed. Then he answered his own question, “No, wrong style. Finger-like protrusions are inefficient design… similar body shape but the wrong color…” He looked at Anderson sharply. “Captain, this isn’t a style of ship belonging to any species I know of. And yet those marines are getting annihilated by the looks of it.”

“Whoever it is, they’re probably after the beacon. This mission just got a lot more complicated,” Anderson turned tightly and started towards the entrance to the Comms room. “Tell Alenko and Jenkins to suit up, we’re going into a hot zone. Nihlus, meet us in the cargo bay.” The Spectre nodded and followed Anderson out of the Comms room, and after a moment Jane and John followed.

“Good thing we’re already armored up,” Jane said in an aside to John. He nodded, his jaw tight. “Don’t worry, this will all be fine. After all, we’re getting evaluated for the Spectres. Clearly that means they think we’re hot shit or something.”

 


	3. Space Mall Deluxe

Eden Prime was a nightmare from start to finish. They lost Jenkins only minutes into the mission from his gung-ho jumping-straight-into-the-fray attitude, and from that point on Jane had been very silent and very still. Ever since Akuze, losing squad members hit too close to home for her. Kaidan had been close to Jenkins, and John had promised that as soon as the mission was completed they would give the man a proper burial.

“I just need you to stay focused, Kaidan,” he had said, hand on his shoulder for only a brief moment. They had known each other in BAaT, had been close enough to be friends - but friends were hard to keep when any weakness, relational or otherwise, was used against you at every turn to “build character.” So John had squished whatever feelings he had down, stayed pleasant distances away from everyone, and hoped that one day he’d see his sister again.

Kaidan had nodded and said, “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll be fine.” So John had dropped it; there were other things they had to deal with, like the robots.

The last surviving marine, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, had confirmed his suspicion of geth - but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something. The ship he had seen wasn’t of geth style, and as Kaidan had said, they hadn’t been seen outside the Veil in 200 years. Jane had nudged him out of his reverie, but had also nodded - she was thinking the same as him, that there was more to this than met the eye. Growing up stealing to eat made it easier to notice when something was off, when the picture wasn’t quite right. That was the skill one had to learn to survive on the streets outside of jail.

The further into the colony they went, the mystery deepened. People on spikes, turned into little more than mindless kamikaze exploding zombies. The scientists they had found hadn’t answered any of their questions, but coming towards the tram in the center of the colony had at least answered why Nihlus had stopped feeding them updates.

Jane had sighed when they had found the inert form of the Spectre and, saying the first thing she had said since the mission had started, had quipped, “Widowed before we even got to the altar.”

“Is this really the time, Jane?” He had asked her wearily, though it had been ignored in favor of William’s query of, “You were engaged to a turian?”

Jane had snorted. “No. I barely knew the guy. It’s a… ‘you-would-have-had-to-be-there’ joke.”

The knowledge that Nihlus had likely been gunned down by someone he knew, someone who was likely a Spectre as well, hadn’t sat easily with John, and it was something that had continued to bother him even as they had raced to disarm the bombs scattered throughout the colony. Though there had been questions left over, the beacon at least had been secure.

Still mulling over what had occurred throughout the colony, he wasn’t paying attention when Ashley got too close to the beacon and it lit up. He swung his head around in time to see his sister shout and then tackle the other woman out of the way before being stuck in whatever… pull the beacon had.

“Jane!” He crossed the distance to the beacon faster than he thought he could even run, catching her as her limp body fell, disturbingly calling to mind the image of a ragdoll. He barely even registered Kaidan beside him, hand on his shoulder, until he was shaken.

“Commander, we need to get her on the Normandy,” Kaidan said, voice soothing. It was hard to not like Kaidan’s voice; he had known it from when it was still cracking and changing, over time becoming a sound he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, forget.

He took a steadying breath and, making sure he had a solid grip on his sister’s limp form, stood up. “Let’s move out. Williams, we’ll take you to where you need to go. Or, if you’d like, we can see about getting to reassigned to the Normandy. You’re solid in a fight, and a survivor.”

She looked surprised for a moment, before smiling and giving a nod. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

It was ten hours of bored desperation, waiting for his sister to wake up, that led him to be hunched over at the mess table, fingers tracing the old and worn binding of Jane’s sketchbook. He hadn’t even noticed Kaidan had sat down across from him until he spoke.

“You’re acting like she died,” he observed, voice low as to not be overheard by the other crewmembers in the area.

He looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m just tired. And worried. The last time she slept this long, she had done some real biotic acrobatics and I thought she’d burned her brain out or something.” He laughed, placing his elbow on the table and propping his chin up with a curved palm. “That was before BAaT, so I had no idea what was going on aside from the horror stories the news liked to post all over. Turns out she just needed to eat a mountain of food. But I’m mostly just worried about what that beacon did. The energy fluctuations were… kind of like biotics, in how they looked and felt. And no one knows for sure what the thing was supposed to do. Just don’t want her turning into a vegetable.”

Kaidan laid his hand on the hand John had on his sister’s sketchbook, for just a quick moment, and then pulled it away. “This is what’s going to happen. She’s going to wake up, make a clever quip about sleeping on the job, and then laugh at you for worrying so much. You always had a tendency to worry a little too much, John. It’s not healthy.”

John snorted. “I worried about you and Rahna and everyone else because none of the people in charge seemed to. Felt like it was my job to at least make sure everyone got to eat or take advantage of a hacked comms connection.”

“Yeah, and I’m grateful you did those things. Made BAaT a little less terrible. But you always forget to take care of yourself - you look like you really need some sleep. How about I do you a favor?” Kaidan asked, slipping out of the chair and standing up. “I’ll ping you if your sister wakes up, so you can get some sleep. That sound good?”

He looked at Kaidan for a moment, drinking in his expression of tender sympathy like he was in the desert and dying of dehydration. Immediately after thinking that metaphor, he ducked his head and internally chastised himself for watching one too many bad romance films with his sister, when she was still in that phase where she wanted to watch such things and make fun of the actors and plot.

“Sure. Thanks, Kaidan.” He stood up, taking Jane’s sketchbook with him as he went. “Don’t know how much good it’s going to do, but thanks.”

It was several hours later, when he was finally drifting off to sleep after the shaky effects of panic had finally settled into that cold, heavy feeling in his limbs, that his omnitool pinged. He barely suppressed the urge to scream, instead opting for grumbling in annoyance as he rolled off the bed. He summoned his omnitool and poked at his messages.

LTKAlenko: Your sister is awake and foretelling the end of the universe.

John stared at it for a moment, confused as to whether or not it was a joke, and then replied: Thanks. I think.

When he arrived in the medbay, Jane was, in fact, prophesying doom and gloom. She had a small smile curled at the corner of her mouth, which told him she was clearly joking - but the kind of joke that covered up the fact that she was actually scared. That realization settled like a rock in his guts.

Kaidan was half-listening to her, giving John a look of clear relief when he walked in, and Doctor Chakwas, who had been making furious notes on her datapad - probably something like, “Commander Jane Shepard clearly lost marbles when in contact with Prothean Beacon” - and John crossed his arms and fixed his sister with a steady stare until she stopped talking and crossed her arms back at him.

Before saying anything to his sister, he looked at Kaidan and nodded at him. “Thanks for the ping. You can escape the insanity that is my sister turning the medbay into her personal palmistry shop.”

“Yeah, I’m going to go before I’m told that I die on a sunny beach somewhere, before my time,” Kaidan replied, brushing past John on his way out.

“No one dies before their time, Elvis, that’s why they call it ‘your time’!” Jane called after him. She sighed and sat back down on the cot she had rested on for fifteen hours and, lowering her voice, said, “More seriously, the entire time I was asleep all I saw was death and destruction. Synthetics, I think, killing organics. It was all very Scifi Channel dystopian thriller.”

“Did it feel like a dream or something else?” He asked her softly.

“Like… a memory of a nightmare. Or, a memory of something nightmarish that actually happened. It feels… like a warning, one that I can’t unscramble and put into words. Like it’s telling me the reason the Protheans are gone, but not in English.” She shook her head and let out another sigh, a little more bitterly this time.

Anderson walked in then, looking like he was trying hard not to show the fact that he had been dealing with unhappy upper brass for a few hours. “How are you doing, Jane?”

She shrugged. “Oh, you know, pretty ok. Portents of doom and destruction are my cup of tea.”

Chakwas spoke up then, still absently prodding at her datapad. “While she was asleep, there was an increase in beta waves and rapid eye movement. Intense dreaming, as it were.” She looked up at Anderson and smiled. “She should be fine. Other than her claiming to have seen the destruction of the Protheans.”

Anderson was quiet for a moment, seeming to assess the situation, and then addressed Jane. “Visions? From the beacon? Nobody knows what was in that thing, it’s possible it was telling you something. It’s important that we report this to the Council - they’re already unhappy with the way things have gone.”

“You can’t really think telling the Council my sister had visions is going to get us anywhere, do you, Anderson? They won’t take us seriously. They’ll probably use it to dismiss our eyewitness account of Nihlus’ murder,” John countered.

“And telling them I had a bad dream is probably… not compelling evidence of anything,” Jane continued. “Though I suppose you have to include it in your report anyway.”

“Like I said, no one knows what was on that beacon. You’re the only one who has seen whatever was on it - if it was a warning, it’s better we heed it. The Council wanted to know what was on that beacon. If they don’t like what is was, and dismiss it, that’s their prerogative,” Anderson said, sounding very tired. “I hate flying blind. We’re nearly at the Citadel, so you two should suit up, bring Williams and Alenko, and get ready to meet with the Council.”

“Great, lemme just slide into my diplomatic pantsuit,” Jane muttered, pushing herself off the cot and following Anderson out the medbay. John gave Doctor Chakwas a smile and a nod and followed his sister out the door.

*

Watching the Normandy bank through the ships coming and going to the Citadel was a sight to see, as was the Presidium itself. Udina, the ambassador John nor Jane had never met, was less than friendly, however, putting himself in an impatient mood and Jane in the mood to punch him in the face. But they knew how to deal with politicians, no matter how much they didn’t like doing so. Their mother had taught them how to be diplomatic when it mattered, to use that latent Shepard charisma to help them get what they need. So both John and Jane assured Udina of how well the Council meeting was going to go, placated his anger at the loss of the beacon, and went to the Council tower as they were instructed.

As they entered the vast space, vaulted ceiling high and distantly reminding him of a starker, more utilitarian Hagia Sophia, they ran into two arguing turians.

“I need more time, Executor,” the turian - a C-Sec officer by the looks of his armor - was arguing to the other.

“You had time, Garrus. Your investigation is over,” the Executor cut him off, turned and walked away, leaving the very blue turian steaming angry.

Jane was smiling, nearly wildly, and he knew that she was about to say something monumentally stupid when the officer turned and noticed them, and addressed them - though his eyes lingered on his sister and her watermelon armor. “Commanders? Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec. I was assigned the case on Saren.”

Before John could ask him why he was interested in the case, Jane said, “You’re an honest cop with nothing to lose. You’re turian Bruce Willis and this is Space Die Hard.”

The turian looked at her, mandibles twitching in what must have been confusion, his brow plates shifting together to form a quizzically interested expression. “I’m sorry, I think my translator didn’t catch that. What?”

John sighed. “You didn’t mishear, she’s just talking about really old Earth movies and making references no one knows anymore.”

“Ah,” Garrus replied with a short nod.

“You’re a cop on the edge! You’re a loose cannon!” Jane enthusiastically extrapolated, elbowing John in the gut hard and shooting him a sidelong smirk.

“Why are you so interested in getting this evidence against Saren?” Ignoring his sister, he asked, pushing her lightly with one hand.

“Something about him rubs me the wrong way. He’s a Spectre, everything he touches is classified, so it’s impossible to find anything. But I think he’s guilty,” he explained. “I believe you.”

Kaidan, who had been poking at his omnitool screen for the whole conversation, then interrupted. “Commanders, the Council is ready to see us.”

Ashley sighed. “This will be a disaster. They’re not going to listen.”

“Of course not!” Jane said cheerily. “They never want to listen. And they especially don’t want to hear anything bad about their dearly beloved Saren, ascended to nigh-godhood by their love of him. I heard the turian councillor has a statue of Saren in his bathroom, overlooking his gilded-gold tub.”

“Oh? And you heard this in the ten minutes we’ve been on the Citadel, from the people we haven’t been talking to?” John queried, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go. And hope that this goes well. Or we’re going to have a problem.”

While they were walking away, Jane punched Garrus in the shoulder and told him very seriously, “Don’t let the red tape get you down, turian Bruce Willis. This plot goes nowhere without our balding action hero.”

John looked back to see the C-Sec officer standing with his arms bent at the hip and hands turned up and looking like he was trying to physically grasp something being handed to him. John didn’t blame him for the confusion; he barely got half the references his sister made -  while he was in BAaT without outside communication, she had spent time in an aging Vancouverian orphanage, run by a woman as old as the Earth itself (so said Jane) and who listened to Elvis songs on repeat (the song depended on the day, but Jane said that more often than not it was just Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog all day, every day) and whose television only received crackling and faded programs and movies from centuries past. It marked her in this odd way of communicating so that only very old humans even could remember what she might be talking about, and he knew that she talked that way for one reason: to knock people off-balance. She liked to do that, to say something no one knew or do something no one could do, and watch the resulting reaction from the people around her. John had never quite grasped her reasoning for doing so, but he figured it might have had to do with bothering adults that came to the orphanage. She hadn’t wanted to be adopted; she had been there only because John had been sent off to BAaT - and though she had been young when their mother died, she still remembered her mother with all the fondness and love a child could have, and couldn’t ever see replacing her, or the idea of her. On this, John agreed. Their mother had moulded them into the people they were today, regardless of how little time they had together. He still couldn’t shake the “I should go” line out of his brain, even though he knew it was repetitive and that it was likely made fun of.

The Council was elevated at the highest point of the tallest tower in the Citadel. Jane had muttered, on their taxi ride to the Presidium Tower, that the height reflected how highly they thought of themselves. They were apparently late, as Udina was already talking to the Council and Anderson was looking agitated next to him. He acknowledged them with a short, unhappy nod and then turned his attention back to the Council. John noted that there was a turian, holographically projected into the meeting, to the side of the Council - the height of the image made him think of hubris; tall to the point where all in the vicinity must look up in awe. He assumed that it was Saren, and judging from the uncomfortable and frustrated look on Anderson’s face, he assumed he was also correct.

“If this were a turian colony, the Council would already be stepping in!” Udina was arguing, and John had to stifle a long-suffering sigh. Accusing the Council, however rightly, of prejudicial behavior would not help their argument in the slightest.

The turian Councillor - Sparatus, John recalled his name being - quivered in what seemed to be self-righteous indignation when he spoke next, speaking curtly and unhappily. “The turian do not colonize in the Traverse.”

“And what about the evidence we have? We have an eyewitness account of what happened on Eden Prime!”

“The testimony of one traumatized dock worker is hardly solid proof of any wrongdoing, Ambassador,” Valern, the salarian Councillor, said calmly. “We need something better than just one testimonial to substantiate these claims you’re bringing against Saren.”

Saren then saw fit to speak, his voice echoing through the open space like so many gongs. “Well, it is Captain Anderson we are speaking of, are we not? He always seems to be involved when humanity makes false accusations against me.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Anderson’s face turn grave, deeply angry in a way he had never seen anyone angry. Jane had noticed, patted him on the arm, and then, turning to John, tilted her head in the direction of the Council. John understood what she was implying and nodded; the two of them, hands clasped respectfully behind their ramrod straight backs, heads tilted just one degree above straight ahead so their stare was cast down at those shorter than them, eyes making contact with each Councillor in turn, they stepped forward.

“Council, we respectfully wish to speak on the behalf of our mission, and of our evidence,” Jane said, never raising her voice, and noting that the Council had to lean forward to hear her, smiled in a softly pleased way. “And we also wish to clarify any misunderstandings you seem to have about us being here today.”

John picked up where Jane left off. “All the evidence we have is eyewitness testimony, and as Councillor Valern has so keenly noted, it’s not substantial enough to make a case. While this testimony does point us in one direction, towards Saren, it does not clarify enough of what happened on Eden Prime, nor does it truly answer the question of why Nihlus was murdered. We humbly request to look into this matter ourselves.”

“We want to reach the truth,” Jane continued. “Not half-truths or misremembered and traumatic events. We want to find the evidence that we need, both to bring the guilty party to justice, and to lay Nihlus to rest in peace. We don’t want to point any fingers unnecessarily. We believe there is still evidence to be found, which will shed light on this case.”

“We plan to visit C-Sec and aid them in their investigation,” John informed them. He then inclined his head slightly, in a small bow of respect, which his sister mirrored in tandem. “Please excuse the commotion that we’ve made here today. And Saren, please excuse us for wasting your time. We will, I assure you all, return with more solid evidence in due time.”

The Council looked vaguely pleased, and the hologram of Saren stood completely silent, before Saren spoke. “Thank you for your understanding, Commanders, and your willingness to look elsewhere.” The hologram then blinked out, leaving just the Council.

Tevos, the asari Councillor, told them all with a smile that oozed diplomacy, “Please update us with any evidence you find on your investigation, Commanders. This meeting is dismissed.”

Udina led them down the long staircase to the first landing and turned to them, his face pinched and unreadable. “That went… better than expected. Possibly because you two intervened before Anderson could start yelling at Saren.”

“He was deliberately attempting to make me angry,” Anderson replied, crossing his arms. He then sighed. “It’s for the best. There’s too much bad blood between Saren and I. It wouldn’t have worked in our favor for any of us to get angry. Though we didn’t get to mention anything about the beacon or the vision in our meeting before they dismissed us.”

Jane shrugged. “They read our report. And, quite frankly, I didn’t want to bring it up. Vision induced by the beacon or not, Saren is almost assuredly guilty and I don’t really feel like allowing him the ability to publically insinuate that I’m insane. We can discuss the beacon with them when we have the evidence that’s going to put Saren away.”

“And you think you can find that evidence?” Anderson queried.

Kaidan interjected, “We ran into a C-Sec officer on our way in here. He said that he was on a lead, and was arguing with the Executor.”

“Yeah, that turian guy,” Ashley added. “The Commander called him ‘Turian Bruce Willas.’ And said that our action movie would go nowhere without it’s… what was it? ‘Balding male lead’?”

“I believe it was ‘Balding Action Hero.’” Jane answered with a grin. “He sounded pretty angry that the Executor wasn’t going to let him finish his investigation. He looked like the kind of guy who would continue following a lead, even after being told to stop.”

“His name was Garrus Vakarian,” John told Anderson and Udina. “Normally I would just go to C-Sec to find the guy, but like Jane said, I doubt he’s actually there.”

“I have a contact in C-Sec,” Udina said. “Harkin. He’d be able to find him.”

Anderson scoffed. “Harkin’s a useless drunk. He’s probably passed out somewhere in Chora’s Den.”

“Which will simply make it easier to get the information we need out of him. Drunks have loose lips, after all,” Jane said with a shrug. “And… if that doesn’t work… I have a mean right hook.”

“Just be careful,” Anderson warned them. “Saren is probably going to send mercs after you, since you know too much. Watch your backs.”

“‘Watch our backs,’” Jane parroted. “Good advice, dad, thanks. We’ll be fine. After all, we got Elvis, who can serenade all our enemies with his great voice and natural swagger; we have Williams, who survived all those geth like the badass she is; and we got my brother and I. He’s got the barrier, I’ll bring the warp. Biotic artillery strike. And my lovely sniper rifle with explosive rounds. I’ll try not to blow up too many places on the Citadel. Operative word being, ‘try.’”

“What Jane means to say is, thanks for your concern, Anderson, we will complete this mission with little to no structural damage to the Citadel.” John said with a roll of his eyes. “We have a pretty talented team, sir. I think we’ll do just fine, even if we run into any danger. We’ll send in regular updates throughout the day to keep you up to date in our investigation.”

*

It turns out, they didn’t have to go far to get shot at. As soon as they got near Chora’s Den, mercs hiding behind the bridge wall began to take pot shots at them. John brought up his barrier with ease, and with his sister warping through the armor of the mercs, Kaidan overloading shields, and Ashley placing well-aimed shots, the fight was over in minutes.

“We work well as a unit,” John observed, faintly pleased. “It was nice of Saren to provide us with such a nice training exercise.”

“Did you see the way that guy blew up when I shot him with this gun?” Jane asked, grinning wildly. “This gun is beautiful. Thank you, Admiral Kohaku, for finding me a gun that could put down a thresher maw. And thank you, turians who designed this gun.”

“I assume you plan on marrying the turian who designed it, right?” John snarked, holstering his SMG.

“It would only be the right thing to do, John,” she answered seriously. “Back me up on this, Williams. Would you not marry the fine creature that made such a sleekly deadly weapon?” Though Ashley looked like she was going to answer negatively to the question, Jane nodded and turned back to John without waiting to see what she had to say. “See? The Gunnery Chief agrees.”

“Do you have a thing for aliens, LT?” Ashley asked. “Because this is the second joke about marrying turians, and I’m here for this one and still don’t get it.”

“The joke is not a joke as in, ‘ha ha humans don’t marry turians’ but a joke as in, ‘ha ha Jane has a fetish for aliens,’” John answered, sending his eyes heavenward.

Jane made a scandalized noise. “How dare you divulge my greatest kept secret?”

“Was it a secret? It was hard to tell with all of your admiring of turian hips,” Kaidan said with a chuckle. “Not to digress, but aren’t we wasting time? We need to find that C-Sec officer.”

“That’s true,” Jane replied. “Let’s go talk to a drunk. Hopefully he’s a chatty drunk and not the angry kind.”

Harkin turned out to be a mix of the two. While he was extremely chatty, it was unhelpful in almost every way, and he had already come on to his sister twice. On the second incredibly inappropriate comment about Jane and her possible career change to nightclub stripper, she pulled out her pistol and whipped him across the face with it and told him, very quietly, that she had once torn a hole through a thresher maw with her biotics, and would have no problem doing the same to him if he didn’t tell them where to find Garrus. As it turns out, death threats make people very helpful. On their way out they had run into a particularly disgruntled krogan, who informed the bouncers in the club that he was going to kill someone named Fist, told John that he had no quarrel with him, and left. It left a surreal tone for their departure from the club.

“What a skeeze,” Ashley muttered as they left. “Shoulda pistol-whipped him again for good measure.”

“And what was with his comments about Anderson? About him being more involved in all this than we thought?” Kaidan asked, sounding like he was thinking aloud.

“Who cares,” Jane said shortly.

John nodded. “He’s just trying to stir something up. Anderson has done nothing but earn my sister’s and my own respect, and I’m not going to believe any idle gossip about him. Especially from a sadsack like that.”

“You guys did seem close,” Ashley observed. “How do you know each other?”

“We fought together in the Blitz,” John answered. “But we knew him before that. He was there the day we signed up for the Alliance. He was… checking out the new recruits, I guess. He’s actually the only reason they let us in.”

“Why’s that?” Kaidan asked. “I mean, you’re both biotics. The Alliance wanted people like us to join up.”

“Eh,” Jane said, and then sighed. “We, uh. May or may not had shown up to the recruitment office… in a stolen car.”

“May or may not?” Ashley said with a laugh.

“The records are sealed, Chief,” Jane said curtly. “It’s a mystery now.”

John had been watching Kaidan, who had been watching him with a growing level of disapproval in his gaze. Kaidan cocked an eyebrow at John and John shrugged in response.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a criminal?” Kaidan asked, falling back to be next to John, Jane and Ashley leading the way to the clinic, his voice low enough to not be overheard.

“It never came up, and the records are sealed,” he answered. “We only had each other on Earth. No money, no home, no relatives. We had to steal to survive. It’s not exactly something that I normally tell people.”

Kaidan nodded slowly. “Don’t get me wrong, John, I’m not judging you.”

John thumped him on the shoulder. “I didn’t think you were.”

“Whoa, head’s up!” Jane called from where she was at the open door of the clinic. “Hey, there, thugs, I would let the nice doctor go if I were you.”

John quickly reached the his sister, gun out and safety off, and entered the clinic at her side. He briefly noted the C-Sec officer they had been looking for, Garrus, crouched below the half-wall dividing the clinic, his own gun pulled.

“Fist wants this lady dead,” the thug snarled, pistol pushed hard against the doctor’s head. “She went poking around in the wro - ”

He was cut off by a well-placed shot between the eyes; John thought it had been his sister, remembered the rifle she had with her was loaded with explosive rounds, but then saw it was Garrus. He had issues with someone shooting so close to a hostage, but it could wait after the ensuing firefight.

The fight was quickly concluded - they had superior numbers and weapons, and in the tightly confined space of the clinic, Jane’s rifle did a devastating amount of damage both to the thugs and anything else that so happened to be in the blast radius. When the thugs lay dead, John began to internally compose an apology to C-Sec, Anderson, and the Council for the holes now gracing the walls of the clinic.

“Hey, Crocodile Dundee,” Jane said, voice angry as she went over to Garrus and looked him straight in the eye. “We don’t shoot people who are holding hostages. Because we might hit said hostage. And we want the hostage to continue to remain alive, correct?”

Garrus twitched in what was a clearly nervous way, and replied, “Of course! I - I didn’t think that through. Doctor Michelle, are you hurt?”

The woman, who had finally come out of cowering in the corner, shook her head, and with a thickly French accent, reassured him, “I am fine.”

“Why were those guys after you?” John asked her. “And who is this Fist guy, anyway? This is the second time I’ve heard of him. Some krogan wants to kill him, and he’s got goons out shaking down the local clinic staff. He can’t be anything good.”

“He’s a local crimelord,” Garrus explained. “But he’s more than that. He was an agent for the Shadow Broker, but is apparently now working for Saren. There was a krogan mercenary, hired by the Shadow Broker, who has been going around making threats lately. I heard over my radio that they’ve brought him in for questioning - we could probably find him in C-Sec and see what he knows.”

“That could get us one step closer to finding the evidence we need,” Jane said. “He was probably that angry guy we saw in Chora’s Den. With all those claw scars on his face.”

“Yeah, that would be him,” Garrus confirmed. “Fist sent his men here because Doctor Michelle treated someone who had information we need - that proves Saren’s guilt.”

“Yes, there was a quarian that was here a little while ago,” the doctor said. “She was injured and feverish, and kept murmuring about how she had to get in contact with the Shadow Broker. So I told her about Fist.”

“And Fist isn’t with the Shadow Broker anymore,” Ashley concluded. “So, we need to find this quarian. But to find the quarian, we need to find the krogan mercenary sent to kill Fist so he can’t kill Fist before we find out her location. This mission is turning into an alien fruit salad.”

“A tasty, daring, heroic fruit salad, Chief,” Jane said with a smile, slapping her on the shoulder. “We should go and find that angry krogan. And hey, rough-and-tumble cowboy cop, since you’re so keen on netting Saren, you should hitch yourself onto this multi-species extravaganza. It’s sure to be more interesting than whatever it is you do when you’re not uncovering the dirty dealings of Spectres.”

“I’d like that,” Garrus said. “I was actually going to ask if I could come, but it’s nice to be invited. It feels like I’m actually doing something instead of just avoiding the red tape everywhere. Doctor Michelle, I’ll send word to C-Sec that your clinic was attacked, so you’ll be protected in case Fist sends some more of his men.”

“Thank you, Garrus. And take care in your investigation,” she said with a wave. Garrus dipped his head in response and fell into step with Jane.

On the stairway, descending past the neon lights of the market and into the dimmer atmosphere of C-Sec, Garrus asked Jane, sounding unsure if he was going to get a real answer, “Uh, who is this ‘Crocodile Dundee’? And who’s ‘Bruce Willas’? For that matter, what’s a cowboy?”

Jane barked a short laugh. “Don’t worry your scaly head about it. It’s nothing insulting, I assure you.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better,” Garrus muttered, and then turned to John. “Are those weird human insults?”

John shrugged. “I have no idea. I didn’t watch old television shows during the formative periods of my life like she did.”

“If you did, you’d probably be more fun,” Jane snarked, stopping short at the bottom of the stairs and nearly causing Garrus to fall over her. She steadied him and asked, “Are turians top heavy? Are you like one of those birds that are always dipping their beaks in water?”

“Shepard, I have no idea what you mean. You keep saying these things that are just incomprehensible to me,” he answered, looking and sounding baffled, and began walking to the entrance of C-Sec when he was barrelled out of the way by an enthusiastic blond man.

“Did I hear that right? You’re Commander Shepard? The Commander Shepard?” He asked her, looking like he was bouncing.

“Uh, one of the Commander Shepards,” Jane corrected.

“You’ve got a fan, apparently, Commanders,” Kaidan said with a barely repressed laugh.

“No, one of us has a fan. Which Commander is it, C-Sec guy? I fought a thresher maw with my bare hands. My brother was the big hero of the Blitz.”

“Uh…” he trailed off in his enthusiasm. “Both of you?”

“Good answer. A diplomatic answer. If you had said it was my brother I would have had to challenge you to a duel for my honor,” Jane said with a sniff.

“Jane,” John sighed. He turned to the man and gave a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch. Trying to prevent someone from killing someone else so we can save another person entirely.”

“Oh! Sorry, Commanders. I’ll, uh, be on my way,” he skirted around them and went back to what he had been doing near the parked cars.

“He probably thought we were the same person,” Jane snorted as they walked into C-Sec. “Tons of people do that. I guess they just figure Commander Shepard is bigender and leave it at that.”

“We are in fact an amorphous blob, as anyone who truly knows us knows,” John said with a laugh. “We fought thresher maws during the Blitz. In fact, the Blitz was all about thresher maws, not batarians.”

“History books will remember the Blitz as, ‘Wow, we populated that planet with people and man were there a lot of giant, angry space worms!’” Jane added, laughing with him. “And of course, Commander Shepard, bigender space hero, punched them all to death with a shotgun in one hand and a big knife in the other!”

“If you had a shotgun in one hand and a knife in the other, why would you punch the thresher maw?” Garrus drawled.

Jane spun around. “To make a point, obviously. That between the gun and the knife, the most superior weapon on hand was, in fact, my hand.”

Ashley laughed, a deep belly laugh, and was shortly joined by Kaidan and Garrus. Jane grinned and said, “This field trip is off to a great start. Let’s go get our big, angry krogan and the party can really begin.”


End file.
